LITMIR.BIZ

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you saying that in order for our construction company to make the transition from Savannah to Brewster County I have to make amends for my past?”

      Grant shrugged. “Only if you want people to respect and trust you.”

      Knowing Grant had deliberately hit a nerve, Hunter laughed. “You’re a dog.”

      “I’m an honest, forthright dog because that’s what my father taught me.” Glancing down at the paperwork on his desk, Grant dismissed his partner. “Now, go do the right thing.”

      “Come in, Hunter,” Abby said with a smile, as she held the screen door for him that afternoon. “Tyler’s not home from school yet, but that’s normal when it rains. Unless I missed my guess, he and his friends are probably jumping in puddles.”

      Laughing nervously, Hunter stepped inside and shrugged out of his coat. Though it had insulted him that Abby’s family had never let him beyond the kitchen, right now being in the kitchen gave him a homey, welcome feeling. A sense of rightness, a sense of comfort.

      A sense that he belonged here.

      Memories of the love and laughter they had shared all those years ago lured him but Hunter fought them. Thinking this through after his talk with Grant, he had actually considered that to the residents of rural Brewster County, Pennsylvania, “doing the right thing” by Abby meant that he should marry her. He had even considered that if he and Abby could pretend the past seven years hadn’t happened, pick up where they left off, and get married, they would be the happiest two people in the world. The picture was so appealing that the temptation to believe nearly dragged him under.

      But he also knew the truth about life, people and relationships. There was no such thing as a sure thing. Though he believed Abby had loved him, and he also believed she understood he left because her parents had lied to him, she was only eighteen when they were dating. Not only could her feelings about him have changed as she matured, but she had seven years of hating him under her belt. God only knew what that might have done to her. God only knew how that might have colored the way she had raised their son.

      So what he planned to do in his meeting with Tyler, his relationship with Abby, was expect nothing from either of them. He would let them give what they wanted at their own paces, and accept whatever he got as enough.

      No expectation, no disappointment. It was a good rule to live by.

      However, when Abby turned and smiled at him, Hunter’s heart lurched and he once again got the sudden urge to just ask her to marry him and force them into a position where they would have to rekindle their old love. He could still feel the heat and the fire, the passion, of making love to her. It suffused him, seared him with memories he thought long forgotten. Memories that made him ache for the commitment he thought they could have made seven years ago.

      However, if circumstances precluded them from attempting marriage then, plain, old-fashioned intelligence precluded it today. Hunter knew so much more about love and matrimony now than he had at twenty-four. And he refused—absolutely refused—to jeopardize his relationship with Tyler because he still had a few flights of fancy about Tyler’s mother.

      But he had to admit she was beautiful. He had forgotten that. Somehow over the years he convinced himself that she was the red-haired, freckle-faced rich kid who had money but no looks, who had more or less befriended the shy farmer’s son because they were both outcasts. Seeing her stunning hair, shot with fire by the afternoon sun, her shimmering green eyes, her smooth alabaster complexion, he remembered things the way they really were. She might not have been popular in high school, but it wasn’t because she wasn’t attractive. The more he thought about it, the more Hunter realized she had been an outcast by choice. She wanted more, and to Abby he had been more.

      Her faith in him had puffed him up and boosted him at a critical point in his life. Her confidence literally made him who he was today. And though he couldn’t risk a try at the fairy-tale world they dreamed of, he could give her honesty, justice and money. Genuine, hands-on, spendable reality. Not fantasy. If they were going to resolve the problems that faced them, they had to stay away from fantasy and stick with reality.

      Glancing around the comfortable kitchen, Hunter recognized that was probably the reason she was keeping them in her kitchen, the room he was accustomed to being in, rather than the living room. This was reality for them. He had to remember that and stay the hell away from daydreaming. He was much too smart for daydreaming anyway. He had gotten over that years ago, and couldn’t believe he was slipping back into that bad habit now. He had to be as practical as Abby was.

      Right at that moment, Abby wasn’t thinking about anything practical, reasonable or even sensible. Not only was she too nervous to be analytical about the finer points of introducing her son to his father, but it hit her full force that she didn’t know the silent stranger standing in her kitchen.

      She had loved Hunter Wyman all of her adult life, but seeing him again after seven long years, she had to wonder what happened to him. He was as handsome as when he left—maybe more so—but his sedate, businesslike demeanor didn’t fit. She couldn’t reconcile her Hunter to this composed and quiet man. He had been much too passionate about life to be so…well, stuffy.

      “You’ve certainly changed,” she said, wanting him to look at her so she could see his eyes. When her efforts were rewarded by his glance in her direction, Abby’s heart sank. He even lost the friendly warmth he had that morning when he first showed up at her door.

      “I had to change. I wanted a better life.”

      She knew that. Part of what drew her to him had been his desire for a better life and the courage and drive she knew would get it for him. “It appears you got everything you wanted.”

      “And then some,” he agreed, taking a seat at the table when she offered it with a wave of her hand.

      “Would you like tea?”

      He smiled. “You remember.”

      She acknowledged that with a slight tilt of her head. “I remember a lot of things.”

      “So do I,” Hunter agreed, gazing around the room.

      She expected to see at least a shadow of anger, if only because he had hated being banished to her parents’ kitchen. But not one iota of sentiment crossed his face. His brow didn’t crease. He didn’t frown. No memories haunted his eyes. She told herself to be glad that he had grown up and grown beyond his history, but that didn’t satisfy the emptiness that seemed to seep into the room by degrees as she came to terms with the new man that he was. He had definitely moved beyond his past, and though she had wished that for Hunter a million times, suddenly she wondered if that wasn’t a mistake.

      In growing out of his past, he had outgrown her. In moving beyond his roots, he behaved as if he had none.

      She handed him his tea. “Here you go,” she said, sounding more like a waitress than a friend. She just barely stopped the instinct to reach into her apron for a customer receipt, and the near slip almost made her laugh, but one look at Hunter’s serious countenance stopped her. Where was the happy man she’d loved? Where was the smile she had lived for?

      “So, you’re partners with Grant Brewster now?”

      He nodded. “Grant actually saved my construction company. I had hit a rough spot, and he had come to Savannah looking for a place to invest some money. We were a match made in heaven.”

      Watching him while he talked, Abby was struck by the emotion in his voice. The first real emotion she had heard since his warm hello that morning. He loved his company, but she couldn’t help but remember a time when he thought they were the match made in heaven. Now he used the phrase to describe a business.

      “That’s…interesting,” she said, then grimaced because her tone conveyed exactly the opposite meaning of what she intended.

      Hunter chuckled. “The truth is, Abby, I’m probably not very interesting. I more or less became successful by changing. I’m not wild and rebellious anymore. Not hot-tempered anymore. I don’t

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